


how to save a life

by sportsnightnut



Category: ER (TV 1994), The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 10:45:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16491062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sportsnightnut/pseuds/sportsnightnut
Summary: An X-Files/ER crossover work that takes place during the XF cancer arc. Scully isn't feeling well, so Mulder takes her to County General, where Dr. Greene takes care of her. Season 3 ER/Season 4 XF.





	how to save a life

**Author's Note:**

> A prompt from Tumblr: "Since you do XF and ER fanfic could I ask for a crossover fic where Mulder and Scully are in Chicago on a case during her cancer and she’s feverish and throwing up so he has to take her to County ER?"
> 
> As ER is one of my other all-time favorite shows, writing this was such a joy. The cancer arc aligns with Season 3 of ER, so I was delighted that this meant I could write a bit of my favorite ER character, Dr. Greene. :)
> 
> And for those of you non-ER fans, this is still totally readable for you. Enjoy!

* * *

 

She’s already exhausted when he picks her up on the way to the airport, but she does her best not to let it show. She smiles, she asks him how he’s doing, she makes small talk about the case. But he sees it–he feels it–even when she tries to hide it. Her eyes aren’t as bright as usual. Her smile doesn’t quite reach the corners of her lips. Her voice is a bit scratchy, a bit soft. But Mulder says nothing.

When they board the plane, Scully takes the middle seat. No matter how many times they do this dance, she will never allow him to take the middle seat. She’s short, and not inconsequentially shorter than him. It doesn’t make sense for him to take the middle seat, but he’ll dispute this anyway before eventually taking the aisle seat.

Mulder’s suitcase is packed normally and stowed in the overhead bin; his small carry-on underneath the seat is packed a little differently. In the places where he’d normally stash snacks for himself, he’s packed only one bag of sunflower seeds. The rest of the space is taken up by a sleeve of saltine crackers and a plastic bag of rice cakes. There’s a banana tucked in the pocket, too.

Before they reach cruising altitude, she’s allowed herself to doze off, her head resting against his shoulder. It’s a physical representation of the fact that she’s let her guard down; normally, Scully would insist on some semblance of professionalism that wouldn’t allow her to fall asleep using her partner as a pillow. But her head is tucked in between Mulder’s shoulder and his chin, and his arm is wrapped around her to ensure she’s safe and steady.

When the flight attendant asks about drinks, Mulder politely declines anything for himself, but asks for a cup of ginger ale for Scully. He wants to make sure that when she wakes up, there’s something available to comfort her.

She stirs twenty, maybe thirty minutes later, and she’s relieved when she sees the ginger ale sitting on his tray table. Mulder passes it to her and watches her drink it slowly, taking a deep breath in between each sip. He’s already removed a sleeve of saltines from his bag, so he offers her one; at first, Scully shakes her head, but he persists without saying a word. She takes one cracker and nibbles on it, which is enough to assuage his concern. But as soon as the cracker disappears, her head is back on his shoulder.

When he’s sure she’s asleep, he presses a kiss to the top of her head.

* * *

They arrive in Chicago and head straight to the precinct to meet with the captain and the detective in charge of the case. The pair seems amenable to their assistance, unlike much of the local law enforcement they’ve encountered. The captain is actually happy to allow Scully to take a look at the body and perform an autopsy.

As soon as the detective and the captain step out, Mulder touches Scully’s arm. “You okay to do this?” he asks. She seems a little more lively now, but he has a feeling she’s putting on a front.

“Yeah,” Scully replies, looking around to ensure the tools she needs are close by. She snaps on a pair of gloves and smiles, which seems a little more sincere than the one she offered him this morning when she got in the car.

“Want me to stay?”

“Please,” Scully says softly, nodding. “I’d like that.”

* * *

As soon as the autopsy is finished, they head out for dinner. She pokes at her bowl of soup with a spoon after taking a couple bites, seemingly uninterested in the food.

The conversation up to this point has been pretty standard; more small talk, a bit of theorizing based on the autopsy results. Her sickness is the unspoken; the elephant in the room that neither of them addresses until Mulder finally breaks down and says something.

“Are you feeling alright?”

Scully shrugs. “I feel okay. Considering.”

He reaches across the table and places his hand over hers; she’s still wearing her coat and scarf, and he notices she’s shivering a little.

Mulder pushes his partially-eaten burger and fries out of the way and reaches across the table to feel her forehead. “I think you have a fever,” he says, pulling his hand back. “You’re burning up.”

The waitress comes back to ask if they want anything more, and Mulder asks for the check.

“Let’s get you back to the hotel.”

She doesn’t argue.

* * *

They’re given adjoining rooms as requested, though they’re fitted with double beds as opposed to queens. Mulder carries their bags to her room and sets them down on the luggage rack. He unzips hers to grab her pajamas.

When Scully comes out of the bathroom, she’s pale as a ghost. He hands the flannel pants and t-shirt over to her and she changes there in front of him, not concerned with how she looks or if he’s staring or not. He isn’t, out of politeness and respect, and instead busies himself with getting ice from down the hall and digging the Tylenol out of her bag.

“Thank you, Mulder, but I’m fine,” Scully insists when he indicates that he’d like to stay.

“That may be, but I’d still like to sit with you for a while,” Mulder responds, shaking two Tylenol out of the bottle and handing them to her with a plastic cup full of ice water.

Scully nods as she swallows the pills, too tired to fight him on this. Mulder pulls the tightly-tucked blankets out and allows her to sit on the bed before he gently places them over her. He fluffs up the pillows on the other bed to prop himself up and sits down. She tosses the remote his way, allowing him to choose what they watch. He finds a rerun of Saturday Night Live and sets the remote down on the table.

He falls in and out of a restless sleep propped up against the headboard, but he’s jolted awake when he hears her feet hit the floor in a rush to the bathroom. The contents of her stomach, little as they may be, are now in the toilet. She hurries to get rid of the evidence before he can make his way to her, and she leans back against the wall, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Mulder wets a washcloth with cold water and puts it on the back of her neck to soothe her. He holds it there while his other hand rubs small circles on her back, and she naturally falls into him.

“I’m sorry,” Scully whispers, closing her eyes in an attempt to stop the tears.

“Shhh,” he quiets her, continuing to rub circles on her back. “Please don’t apologize.”

“You shouldn’t have to see me like this,” she whimpers, the words coming across like he’s been stabbed in the chest. He never wants her to feel this way.

Mulder places a kiss on top of her head; this time, she’s awake to feel it.

“It’s okay, honey,” Mulder says softly, his face still pressed into her hair. He’s never called her this before, and he’s not sure how she’ll respond to it.

Scully burrows further into his embrace, which is all the answer he needs.

* * *

When it approaches 11pm and she’s still sick and feverish, Mulder insists on taking her to the emergency room.

“I’m fine,” Scully says, but feebly. She’s past the point of convincing herself, much less Mulder, that this is true.

“You’re sick, Scully. You’ve got a fever and you’re dehydrated. Let me take you. If nothing else, they’ll give you some fluids and medicine and you’ll be back on your feet tomorrow. Okay?”

Scully nods, and Mulder helps her shrug on his peacoat over her pajamas.

* * *

When they check into the ER, they’re greeted by a nurse with curly brown hair and a warm smile. She takes them back to the curtain area almost immediately when Mulder tells her what’s wrong.

“I’m Carol,” she introduces herself. “I’m going to grab your vitals, okay?”

Scully sits on the edge of the bed and holds her arm out for the blood pressure cuff. Carol sticks a thermometer under her tongue. Her blood pressure is stable, but her temperature is over 100.

“What other symptoms are you having, Dana?” Carol asks as she scribbles the vitals down in the chart, working through her head-to-toe assessment.

“Just the fever and vomiting. Loss of appetite. The usual.”

Carol nods. “And how long have you been undergoing treatment?”

“Um…” Scully starts, trying to think, but she’s fighting too hard against the exhaustion.

“Six weeks,” Mulder supplies, squeezing her hand.

“Why don’t you go ahead and get changed into your gown? I’m going to call to get your records from your hospital back home, then I’ll get one of our attendings over here to see you, okay? It’ll just be a few minutes,” Carol says as she pulls the curtain closed. Mulder reaches over to brush some hair out of Scully’s face and smiles down at her.

* * *

True to her word, Carol returns not more than fifteen minutes later with a doctor, a tall man with some of the kindest eyes Scully has ever seen.

“Hi there. I’m Dr. Greene,” Mark says, reaching out to touch Scully’s arm in lieu of a handshake. He shakes Mulder’s hand before taking the chart from Carol. “You’re Dana, correct?” Scully nods. “And you are?” he asks, turning to Mulder.

“Uh, I’m Fox. Mulder. I’m Dana’s partner. We work with the FBI and we’re here in Chicago on assignment.”

Mark nods as he flips the pages of her chart. “You’re currently undergoing treatment for a tumor?”

Scully nods. “About six weeks into treatment.”

“She’s a doctor,” Mulder interjects, and Mark looks up from the chart. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. It’s just that…you can tell her the clinical stuff and she’ll understand.”

Mark smiles. “Well, then, it’s nice to meet you, Dr. Scully.”

“You too, Dr. Greene,” she says with a small smile.

“So, you’re aware that what you’re experiencing right now is likely a delayed response to your last treatment. You’re dehydrated, and I’m guessing your electrolytes are out of whack. I’ll run a CBC and a Chem-7 to start, and those’ll give me a good picture of your levels so I can get you started on some medication, okay?”

Scully nods in agreement, and Mulder jumps in with questions. “Do you think there’s anything major wrong?”

“I think it’s just side effects,” Mark says, passing the chart over to Carol so she can add some additional notes. He encourages Scully to take a few deep breaths as he listens to her heart and lungs. “Your blood pressure isn’t elevated, but your pulse is a little high, signaling dehydration. But the blood tests should confirm that. If those show anything unusual, we’ll run a couple more things, but I think they’ll give us the information we need.”

Mulder nods. “Okay.”

“Carol’s gonna draw some blood, then as soon as we get the results back from the lab, I’ll be back to see you,” he says. “In the meantime, are you doing okay?” he asks Scully.

She nods. “I’m okay. Thank you, Dr. Greene.”

“You’re welcome,” he says warmly, reaching out to touch her arm once more. “Hang in there. I’ll see you soon.”

After Carol draws the blood necessary for the tests, Mulder scoots his chair closer to the bed. He rests his head on the scratchy sheets and places his warm hand over her cold one.

* * *

“Mark, Dr. Scully’s labs are back,” Carol says, breezing through the nurse’s station and passing him the piece of paper with the test results. He scans through them and nods before clipping them to her chart.

“Can you get 10mg of prochlor ready in an IV, and a saline drip, too?”

“Sure thing. I’ll meet you back there.”

Mark takes the chart back to the curtain area where he finds both of the agents sleeping, Mulder in a position that suggests some serious neck stiffness is in his future. The sound of the curtain being pulled open and closed is enough to wake the pair.

“Hey there,” Mark greets them, giving them both a moment to come to full consciousness before he begins talking. “I looked over your labs. Everything looks normal, so this is likely side effects from your treatment. We’re going to start you on a slow-drip IV of prochlorperazine, ten milligrams. We’ll see what that does for the nausea and we can give you a second dose if you need it. We’ll also get you started on some fluids to rehydrate you and up your electrolytes. I’m going to have you moved back to the suture room where it’s a little quieter so you can get some rest, okay?” Scully nods. “Do you have any questions for me?”

She shakes her head. “No. Thank you, Dr. Greene. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome, Dr. Scully. I’m on tonight, so I’ll be around to check on you in a bit.”

As Mark moves to leave, Mulder follows him out, pulling the curtain behind him. “Are you sure she’s alright?” he asks, the concern evident in his face and in his voice.

“She’s okay,” Mark reassures him as they take a few steps. “These IV meds and fluids should help her feel much better, if not normal, by morning. I’m hoping she can get some rest, too.”

“Is there anything I can do for her to make sure this doesn’t happen again?”

“If she’ll let you, remind her to take medicine when she needs to. Keep her hydrated and eating, even if it’s simple stuff like crackers. Bland food is perfect. Her taste buds are affected by the chemo, so food may not taste normal. But you can always suggest things to see if something sounds appealing to her.” He pauses for a moment. “You’re a good partner, Agent Mulder. She’s lucky to have someone like you looking out for her.”

“She’s usually the one taking care of me,” he admits. “This is the least I can do for someone who’s saved my ass on multiple occasions. And my life.”

Mark smiles as he starts to walk back toward the nurses station. “It’s very kind of you return the favor.”

“Dr. Greene?” Mulder starts, and Mark turns around. “Thanks for taking care of her. I…” He stops, his breath catching as he realizes he’s never said these words out loud before. “I don’t know what I would do without her.”

Mark takes the few steps back to where Mulder stands and touches his shoulder. “Here. Let’s go to the family room,” he says, nodding toward a small, softly-lit room with a few couches. He takes a seat on one couch and gestures for Mulder to sit across from him.

“How long have you and Dana been working together?” Mark asks, setting her chart down on the cushion.

“Four years.” Mulder pauses, thinking of everything that’s happened to them in that time. Abductions, kidnappings, too many close calls. Several times Mulder thought Scully might be gravely injured, comatose, or near death. Several times Scully thought the same of Mulder. “We deal with some, uh….unusual cases. We’ve seen a lot of things I hope to never see again. I’m guessing you feel similarly about some of the patients who come in here.”

“Our job is to do everything we can to help them. If, at the end of the day, we’ve done our best, we have to take a deep breath and try to let it go. But even then, there are some cases that will stick with you forever.” Mark pauses before continuing. “I read over Dana’s chart pretty thoroughly. It seems to indicate the tumor is inoperable?”

“Yeah, it’s…it’s not good,” Mulder admits, staring down at the carpet. “But she’s fighting. She wants to fight. She has to fight. She…” he pauses, unsure of how to continue. “She was abducted a few years ago,” he finally says, deciding not to explain to this very nice doctor what exactly he means by that. “She was missing for several weeks, but I never gave up hope. I always believed she was okay. That she would come back to me. But somehow this is different. This feels more…final.”

Mark leans forward on the couch, folding his hands as he does so. “When something terrible happened to Dana before, you didn’t give up hope. You believed in her. I need you to do that now. I understand it may seem like this belief isn’t going to do anything, that it isn’t going to cure her. But never give up that hope. You helping her in this fight will do just as much for her as the treatments and the medicine and the doctors and the nurses.”

Mulder hastily wipes away a couple of tears. “I’m sorry,” he says, clearing his throat. “You shouldn’t have to comfort a grown man.”

Mark chuckles as he passes over a tissue. “I knew what I signed up for,” he says. “Along with the traumas and the stitches, I signed up for the even harder things–the difficult diagnoses and the emotions that come with them. This is part of my job, too.”

“Thank you,” he says softly. “Really, Dr. Greene. For everything.” Mulder reaches out for a handshake, which Mark accepts.

“We’ll take good care of her while she’s here with us, okay?” Mark assures him. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for either of you.”

* * *

By the time they’re done talking, Scully’s been moved back to the suture room, which is dimmer and much quieter than the busy curtain area of County General on a Friday night. The only noise is the clicking of the IV pump and the faint sounds of everything else happening in the ER; stretchers rolling by, the muffled noise of nurses and doctors talking and carrying supplies past the closed door.

Scully opens her eyes when she hears the door open and shut quietly; her lips turn up into a soft smile when she sees Mulder.

“You don’t have to stay with me. You can go back to the hotel.”

“Scully, as crazy as it may seem, there’s nowhere I’d rather be tonight than sitting in this incredibly uncomfortable plastic chair next to you.”

She chuckles, and it’s the first time he’s heard her laugh all week. “If you say so.”

“I say so,” Mulder answers, pushing the chair across the tile so he’s closer to her.

She looks over at him and smiles. “Thank you,” she whispers.

Mulder leans over, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. “You can go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Okay,” she says softly.

Once the medicine kicks in and allows her to rest, Mulder stays awake, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she sleeps.

Carol comes in to check on Scully, and she can’t help but smile as she sees Mulder watching over her. She hands him a pillow and a hospital blanket, the kind that’s scratchy but also oddly comforting. “You can sleep,” she encourages him. “She’s okay.”

Mulder’s breakdown in front of Dr. Greene was enough for one night; he doesn’t want to break down in front of Nurse Hathaway, either, as he thinks about the fact that Scully may not be “okay” in the larger sense of the word.

So instead, he just nods.

* * *

“She’s fast asleep,” Carol reports to Mark upon returning to the nurse’s station. “I think the fluids are definitely helping.”

“Good,” Mark says, resting his chin on his hand. He’s quiet for a moment as he stares at nothing in particular. “They seem like really great partners. He’s taking good care of her. Asking questions, wanting to help her get better.”

“Yeah,” Carol agrees. “I don’t know a lot of coworkers who would stay at each other’s bedside all night.”

“He mentioned that she’s saved his life more than once. I think he’s taking this as an opportunity to help her the way she’s helped him,” Mark says, scrawling his signature on her chart.

Carol smiles as she takes a sip of her coffee. “In some ways, I think he’s saving her life right now. Just by being here.”

“I think you’re right,” Mark says, returning the smile as he thinks of what he said to Mulder not that long ago.

One of the other nurses announces that an MVA is three minutes out, so they both reach for yellow trauma gowns and head to the ambulance bay.

* * *

Just down the hall, Scully is fast asleep, Mulder’s head resting against the side of the bed. His fingers are intertwined with hers, and he runs his thumb along her knuckles, glad she’s finally warming up. The steady sound of her breathing will lull him to sleep soon.

For now, she’s okay.

And Mulder will be leaving Chicago with more than he bargained for.  

He’ll leave with a little bit of hope, too.


End file.
